


Just Have To Save The World (Back In A Minute)

by ZairaA



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Crimes & Criminals, Kidnapping, M/M, Mystery, Roommates, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin is convinced that Arthur is the worst flat mate ever and also an - unfortunately gorgeous but promiscuous - accountant. Until he's abducted by weird Russian guys with guns; then he starts having his doubts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Have To Save The World (Back In A Minute)

**Author's Note:**

> This has previously been posted as WIP at Tavern Tales under the working title "The Worst Flatmate in the World". It's been polished up some and the lovely Ceewelsh gave it a quick beta. Thank you for that, bb!

Arthur Pendragon was the worst flat mate in the world – probably in the whole universe, if aliens had flat mates somewhere in their shiny spaceships or goo-dripping underground lairs. Even something disgusting as the thing out of 'Alien' could not have been worse than the blond prat Merlin was sharing the – admittedly – quite nice London flat with. The flat belonged to Arthur, of course, who was the brother of Merlin's best friend's boss. And since Merlin was only subletting – for an even halfway reasonable prize ( _''It's actually quite cheap,_ Mer _lin.'' ) –_ it was difficult for Merlin to complain about Arthur's, well, Arthur-ness.

It had all started out quite nicely. Well, that was a lie; the first time Merlin had met Arthur he'd been sure he wouldn't make it for a week as his lodger. Arthur was posh and sarcastic, more than a little arrogant, and too impatient to even listen to people properly. He could also be bloody rude whenever people didn't do exactly as he told them ( _''I just can't stand stupidity, Merlin. It's not my fault.'')._ So it had been a bit of a surprise to Merlin that Arthur and him actually got along like a house on fire. At least when Arthur was around, which wasn't as often as one would believe for someone with as boring a job as accounting.

They disagreed on pretty much everything from politics to football, which caused loud shouting matches full of colourful insults that ended with them bursting out in laughter and then making themselves comfortable on the sofa with a companionable beer and a bag of crisps. They watched shitty television, making sarcastic remarks or doing voice-overs for ridiculous American TV-shows, and they talked about the good stuff – epic films and more epic books, road trips, their favourite ice cream, and who was the ultimate Doctor of all time ( _''Oh, come on, Merlin, you don't really need me to say it, it should be obvious.''_ ). And it was. Because, strangely enough, they were in complete agreement about the important things in life.

So, for the first few months, Merlin thought their living arrangement was the best thing that could have happened to him and that Arthur and him were destined to be best friends forever. Yes, Arthur was a completely obnoxious clotpole, but he was funny about it and self-ironic and he could even be surprisingly kind ( _''It's nothing really, I just happened to come across those and I know how much you like them.'' )._ How Arthur had just come across a chocolate bar that was only sold in the States, Merlin had no idea, but he nevertheless appreciated Arthur remembering his weird fondness for them. Life was good.

Only, after a while, it became apparent that, while Arthur was maybe a little bit brilliant, he was also the most unreliable person in the world. He didn't do his share of the housework, he forgot to do the shopping or to pay the electricity bill, and he didn't call the repair guy when the boiler was broken. Worst of all though, Arthur apparently couldn't keep an appointment to save his life – or, Merlin thought with a sinking heart, Arthur simply didn't deem him important enough to do so.

Arthur was always late, whether they were supposed to meet at the pub or the cinema or Merlin was making his famous spaghetti, and then, sometimes, Arthur didn't show up at all. He would come home early in the morning, reeking of cigar smoke and cheap perfume, and Merlin tried hard not to sink so low as to search for stains of lipstick on Arthur's shirt-collar. Arthur, obviously, could do whatever he wanted, could fuck whomever he choose, but it would have been nice if he could at least give Merlin a call if his plans changed or, you know, not make plans at all if he wasn't inclined to follow through.

Even more annoying was how absurdly nonchalant he was about it ( _''I had this thing, it took a little longer than expected, but now I'm here, right?''_ ). As if it wasn't rude in the slightest to let Merlin wait for two hours or miss a film he had already bought a ticket for – and, yes, Merlin could have watched it without Arthur, but that wasn't the point. Merlin was starting to get the impression that Arthur thought, just because he was blond and fit and gorgeous and didn't even have the grace to be stupid in compensation, people – females, Merlin imagined, with long legs and few brain cells – would forgive him all his flaws and faults. And for a while, Merlin did as well.

Merlin knew he could have just moved out, and it was a bit of a mystery – even to himself – why he didn't. He kept asking himself that question when he, once more, spent a Saturday morning collecting empty glasses and dirty clothes from the most unlikely places. Really, how did Arthur manage to get a dirty sock crammed into the lampshade? Merlin would really have liked to know but, unfortunately, he couldn't ask Arthur because the prat was suspiciously absent again. Most likely he was just waking up in the bed of his latest one-night stand.

That thought made something twist in Merlin's guts, and he stopped to stare desolately down at the weird mud prints Arthur had left all over the bathroom floor. Because, if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn't so much the dirty dishes or the un-hoovered floors that caused Merlin's misery and bitterness. No, if he was completely, desperately honest, it was probably rather the idea of Arthur rolling around the sheets with some faceless girl whose name he couldn't even remember ( _''Vivian- uh... I mean Veronica, I'm pretty sure it was Veronica, definitely something with a V.'')._ But then it was much easier to concentrate on the many things Merlin felt he had a right to complain about, rather than those he could never ever speak of. It was after all his own bloody fault that he had been stupid enough to think that Arthur might actually care for him a little.

So Merlin didn't move out because, yes, he just was that pathetic.

He was even so naïve to look forward to the Doctor Who marathon Arthur and him had planned for the next day they both were getting off from work early. It had even been Arthur's idea. Merlin should have known that it would end up in disaster and later cursed himself for not having seen it coming.

Arthur had been on time for once, something that should have probably made Merlin suspicious right away, but after a weird phone call ( _''Must have been the wrong number.''_ ) he suddenly decided that they needed more beer. He told Merlin that he'd just pop out to the corner shop but, when he wasn't back after almost an hour, Merlin was stupid enough to grow worried and went looking for him. He had just stepped out of the door when he saw Arthur with a blond barbie hanging all over him, hailing a taxi. The moment Arthur saw him, his eyes grew wide as if in panic and he shook his head, obviously trying to tell Merlin to stay away, probably thinking he would embarrass him in front of his latest conquest.

The hurt and disappointment Merlin felt at Arthur's behaviour was no surprise, but the intensity of the emotion and the ugly lacing of jealousy was, and it hit him like a stab in the gut. Next though, came the anger, and Merlin finally decided that he had bloody well enough. Arthur was an arse, and Merlin wouldn't put up with him any longer. If Arthur wanted to be an obnoxious prat, Merlin could do the same. And so he put on a fake smile and stalked over to Arthur and his tart.

''Hello,'' he said holding out his hand to the blond woman with raised eyebrows, ''I don't think we've met. I'm Arthur's flat mate.''

The girl just looked at him as if he was a leper and asked, ''Who is Arthur?'' which pretty much stunned Merlin into silence.

Arthur laughed, a sound that was completely fake and maybe a little hysterical, and then said to the girl in a voice that didn't sound at all like his own, ''The world is full of crazy people. Forget him, Vivian. Let's go and see Olaf. You said it was urgent.''

With that the two of them got into the waiting taxi and Merlin was left standing at the curb, alone and confused and more than a little heart-broken. Because, yes, Merlin could admit that he was maybe just a bit in love with Arthur at this point.

Of course, Arthur didn't show up at all for the next three days, and when he did he looked like he had partied for a week or maybe been dragged through the bushes by rape dogs and a gang of ninja warriors, but which of those was more likely? Exactly.

Arthur didn't even really apologise ( _''I_ _ said _ _I'm sorry, Merlin!'')._ Well, yes, but the next words out of his mouth had been a lecture about how Merlin wasn't allowed to talk to Arthur in public if he was with people Merlin didn't know. Which made the apology rather redundant and Merlin had bloody well told Arthur so and then went to his room, banging the door in his wake.

From that day on, Arthur started to behave even stranger than before. He refused to go out to the pub with Merlin, he crossed out Merlin's name on the door bell ( _''Who said it was me? And it's not like you get visitors anyway.''_ ) and he actually blew a casket when he discovered Merlin had pulled the sock from the lamp ( _''Can't you keep your bloody fingers from my stuff, Merlin?'')._ Merlin, by now considering the possibility that he was actually living with a madman, had informed him that he would love to never have to touch a single item belonging to Arthur, that he certainly wouldn't do so if Arthur finally deigned to pick up his own mess and if Arthur wanted Merlin to move out, he should grow a pair and tell him so.

That only caused the cabbage head to throw his hands in the air and mutter something completely nonsensical about Merlin being impossible to keep out of trouble. Which was rather ridiculous, since it should have been pretty obvious that it was actually the other way around.

At least Merlin had thought it was obvious. Until he was stopped on his way back home two days later, by a large black van with tinted windows. When two masked men grabbed him and shoved him inside the car, twisting his hands on his back and pulling a hood over his head, Merlin was almost willing to admit that Arthur might have been right this time.

A myriad of thoughts were running through Merlin's head as the van pulled away from the curb with squealing tires. He was being abducted. Maybe this was human trafficking, and he was going to be sold as a sex slave. Maybe he was the secret heir to the throne and just didn't know about it. Or maybe he was on some sort of hidden camera show and Arthur was somewhere watching and having a good laugh. Because if anyone would put Merlin up for that it had to be Arthur. Or well, maybe Gwaine was the more likely candidate but Merlin just preferred to blame Arthur right now ('' _Gwaine is a bloody nutcase, Merlin. Stay away from him!''_ ). Only, however lovely a theory that was, the bonds around Merlin's wrists were cutting off his circulation and, when he said as much, he was cuffed around the head by one of his kidnappers. Merlin was nearly completely certain that TV producers wouldn't dare to do that. And if they did, he would totally sue them.

For a moment Merlin contemplated asking the men that were holding him captive what was happening and where they were taking him, but the fact that they had blindfolded him was probably an indication that they didn't want him to know, and so he didn't bother.

At first he had thought he could be all sneaky and clever and listen to the noises around him so that he might be able to find his way back later, like Robert Redford in that hacker film. But without the use of his hands or something else that conveniently held him in place – a seatbelt would have been great – Merlin was tumbling wildly around in the van and quickly lost every bit of orientation he had, and that had not been much in the first place. So, apparently, he wasn't Robert Redford. Then again his first objective should probably be to get the hell away from these people, anyway, not to find his way back.

Whatever the case might be, Merlin had really no idea where they could be or even how long it had taken them to get there, when the van stopped and he was dragged out by strong and not very gentle hands. The hood stayed on, and he was led through doors and along hallways and, finally, down some stairs. Somehow he felt that this didn't bode well. Merlin heard that a heavy, creaking door was pulled open, and then he was shoved down on what felt like a simple plastic chair. The hood was pulled from his head, and for a moment Merlin was sure he was dreaming this all up.

He was sitting in a dark room with only a single, very bright light directed at him, his hands still tied on his back. Instinctively, he turned his head to the side, screwing his eyes shut, but he couldn't help the bubble of hysterical laughter that escaped from his throat. This was just too much like every fucking cliché of every fucking spy movie ever made. ( _''Come on, it's a classic, Merlin! Sean Connery! You just can't beat the original. I know you think Daniel Craig is hot, but being blond and fit really isn't everything in that job.''_ _)._ And why was he thinking of Arthur now? He should really stop thinking of Arthur.

''Welcome, Mr. Emrys,'' a disembodied voice, speaking with a distinctly Eastern European accent came from the darkness around him.

Merlin swallowed. ''Uh... hello.''

''How nice of you to join us for a little chittychat.''

''You're... welcome?''

The laughter sounded rehearsed, as if it came from a script. Maybe this was Candid Camera after all.

''Let us talk about Alexei.''

Huh. ''Who?''

The voice lost most of its aloofness then, turning impatient in a second. ''Do not try to make me think you are dumb as barrel of fish, Mr. Emrys. We know who you are-''

''Yeah?'' Merlin asked dubiously, but the man just made a disparaging sound and continued.

''...and we know you are important to Alexei. He would not have tried to hide you from us otherwise. A stupid mistake. He should know better.''

''Uh, okay... and who did you say is that Alexei guy?''

There was the sound of steps, measured and moving around Merlin in a circle, although he couldn't see a single thing. ''I cannot imagine why he would think you are worth the trouble.''

''Uh, wow, thank you. That's not insulting at all,'' Merlin muttered. He looked around, trying to gauge where the man was, but it was impossible. ''Look, I don't know anyone called Alexei,'' he said pleadingly. ''Is that Russian? The only Russian guy I know is the owner of the paper shop down the road. But I think he's called Viktor and he's nearly a hundred. So, uh... I really think you must have mistaken me for someone else. Because this whole abducting thing came totally out of the blue for me, you know? I mean... No hard feelings, these things just happen, I'm sure, but... it would be nice if I could go now?''

Suddenly the steps moved towards him, and before Merlin could even twist around his shoulders were grabbed in a hard hold from behind and the voice hissed into his ear. ''Playing an idiot will not get you out of this, Mr. Emrys! You are in a tiny spot. Either you tell us all you know, or we do not have use for you. We do not keep things that are worth less than a rouble, we put them to sleep with the sheep.''

''Tell you all I know?'' Merlin asked, voice slightly high-pitched and shaking with disbelief. ''Well that should be quick. I know nothing. There. Is that all, then?''

''You are very loyal, Mr. Emrys, njet?'' the voice asked snidely, drawing back. ''I wonder why that is. What exactly is Alexei to you?''

''A huge fucking mystery, that's what he is!'' Merlin snapped. He shifted in his seat nervously. The light was still too bright, and the ties too tight, but at the same time the whole situation was so completely absurd that Merlin's brain refused to catch on and take it seriously. He was a little scared, yes, but at least no one had pulled out the torture instruments yet ( _''God, Merlin, I never met anyone who is as ticklish as you! Lets hope you never have to keep a secret.''_ ).

''Are you his lover, Mr. Emrys?'' the voice asked contemptuously. ''The Boss might think highly of Alexei, but I would not put depravity as this past him. I wonder what Olaf would say, were he to know Alexei was betraying his dear darling daughter with a scrawny, big-eared _pidor_!''

''What? A what? That was something mean you just said, right?''

''Bljad! Do you still deny it? What other reason can he have to let you live in his house?''

''What?''

''You were seen coming and going from his residence, and we know it was you who found our transmitter.''

Merlin drew a blank. This must be the weirdest shit that had ever happened to anyone, and he was becoming really fed up with this guy insulting him and accusing him and not telling him anything that made any sense.

''Listen, I live with a man called Arthur Pendragon. He's a prat, yes, but I'm sure he's not a... a... whatever it is you are. He might be the worst flatmate in the world, but he's also a bloody accountant!''

A picture was shoved in front of him. ''This. This is the man you are living with, Mr. Emrys. Njet?''

It was Arthur. It was undeniably Arthur, but he looked very different. Cool and suave in a designer suit and posh sunglasses. Strolling down the tarmac towards what looked like one of those private jets, casually pushing a gun – a fucking gun – into the back of his trousers.

''That's Arthur,'' Merlin said dumbly.

''No, Mr. Emrys. That is Alexei Petrov. About to become the crown prince of the UK branch of the Bratva.'' At Merlin's gobsmacked and confused look, he clarified. ''The Russian mafia.''

Now Merlin's laughter definitely was hysterical. Because, come on, this had to be a joke.

The Russian guy – mobster, Merlin's brain provided with another hysterical snigger – did not join in the laughter, not that Merlin really expected him to. Instead his heavy footsteps retreated a little further again, and Merlin was left, slumped in his chair, with the picture of a very different version of his flat mate lying on the floor in front of his feet.

It wasn't even only the gun; it was the whole posture, the hard line around the mouth which Merlin had seen curl into a mocking yet fond smile so often ( _''Merlin, you are drooling on your textbooks. If you're sick, go to bed.''_ ) The blond man in the picture didn't look like he would make tea and bring someone chicken noodle soup when he had the flu, unlike the one Merlin had got to know as Arthur Pendragon. Maybe this was his evil twin. Or maybe Merlin had been having very convincing delusions ( _''I keep wondering if you have a severe mental affliction, Merlin. No one in his right mind would eat marmite and actually enjoy it.''_ ).

Unfortunately the current hallucination was very vivid and rather painful, Merlin thought, rolling his stiff shoulders and flexing his hands against the bonds, trying to get some circulation back. Then he cleared his throat.

''So, uh... Arth- I mean Alexei – He is getting a promotion, right? He's some sort of hotshot... uh... mobster guy? So... Please excuse me if I'm being obtuse here, but... What exactly do I've got to do with that?''

''You have bee quite a mystery to us, Mr. Emrys. Your appearance was... _unexpected_ and we do not like to be surprised. At first we thought you might be working for Olaf but now... now Mr. Emrys I think you are his ljubovnik, his secret little whore, and that might be even more dangerous. A man tends to lose his sense between the sheets, njet?''

That was the second time that the man had made such insinuations but Merlin knew from experience – okay, more like every spy movie in existence – that his repeated denials would fall on deaf ears. So he kept silent, listening with rising anxiety.

''It is lucky that you are not brightest lamp in the shop.''

''Hey!'' Only the guy had to keep insulting him, and Merlin had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. ''I'll have you know I'm top of my class! Just because I'm not highly educated in Eastern European Crime Business-''

''We still do not feel comfortable about your presence so close to the new London Avtorityet,'' the snide voice continued as if Merlin hadn't spoken at all. ''So we decided to make you the fish.''

''Huh?''

''We do not like Alexei keeping secrets from us, Mr. Emrys. It makes us wonder what else he might be hiding, where his true loyalties lie. We already have a traitor in our midst; it is not a pleasant thing. We want to make sure we clean out house while we have the broom in hand.''

Merlin blinked and pulled his eyebrows together in a frown. This was getting more and more confusing. And maybe also more and more worrisome, but Merlin couldn't be sure. He was still lost somewhere between the fact that he had no idea what the man was actually talking about and his doubts whether he even spoke Merlin's language. Not that he was going to start criticising the foreign language skills of a Russian mobster... assassin... kidnapper... guy.

''H-How does that make me a fish?''

The man snickered. It didn't sound very nice. ''You, Mr. Emrys, are the little, wriggling fish that will lure in the shark, and then the shark will prove that he _is_ a shark by doing what he does best.''

Merlin swallowed hard. ''And... and what is that?'' he asked, voice trembling with uncertainty.

''Kill.''

''Wh-who exact-''

But Merlin didn't get any further because the door flew open then, banging into the wall, and, when Merlin blinked against the light, he could see the silhouette of a man, highlighted by the soft glow from the corridor beyond. The man was broad shouldered, standing with his feet slightly apart, and his right arm stretched out in front of him. Merlin would not have needed to see the low glint from the object in his hand to realise the man was holding a gun. It was not directed at Merlin, though, but at a point to Merlin's left, and it was in that direction the man moved now, gun never wavering.

''V čem smysl ètogo, Mikhail?'' the man growled, his voice hard and distinctly well... Merlin had to assume it was Russian. That wasn't what made his heart jump in his chest though. It was the fact that, however unfamiliar the language and derogatory the tone, the voice was one Merlin would know anywhere.

''Arthur,'' he breathed, and the man visibly flinched.

The voice in the dark chuckled. ''There you are, Alexei. How kind of you to stop by at our little partija. Why do you not greet our guest of honour?''

"Otpusti yego!'' There was a threat in the words, whatever they meant, but again Merlin's captor only laughed.

''Why would I do that? I have purpose for Mr. Emrys.''

''What purpose could that be?'' Arthur, uh... Alexei switched to English, making an impatient hand gesture. Weirdly enough he still had a very distinct accent. ''He's just a stupid, little university student, Mikhail. What could you possibly want from him?''

These words, coming out of Arthur's mouth, stung painfully in Merlin's heart and he lowered his head, blinking rapidly. He suddenly felt nauseous. Somehow it had taken this, seeing Arthur and hearing his cold dismissal, for Merlin to be able to believe what his captor had told him ( _''I've never claimed to be an overly nice guy, Merlin. If you expect me to go and start hugging trees, you'll be sorely disappointed.''_ ).

''He is of no importance to me, Alexei,'' the other man, Mikhail, sneered from behind Merlin now. ''I could not care less about an insect like him. But you do, njet? You care for him, storming in here to his rescue.''

Arthur had not lowered his weapon yet, and his voice was strangely calm for a man threatening someone with a gun. ''I got your message – that you wanted to see me – that's why I'm here. Merlin is just the friend of a friend. I did them a favour by taking him in. So I can't say I particularly care, but I'm curious why you would go to such lengths as to kidnap him.''

''Is that so... Well, as we speak, the traitor Olaf is being eliminated.'' The words were said casually, as if they were of no great importance, but they had to be because Arthur sucked in a shocked breath. ''You are first in line to take his place, Alexei. The boss likes you. But we need you to do something for us. We need you to prove where your loyalties lie.''

Arthur raised his chin. ''I've always been loyal.''

''You are mal’čik, Alexei. A boy. Still new to our old ways. There is only one thing that really proves that you belong to us.''

''And what would that be, Mikhail?'' Arthur asked, almost softly.

''You have to give up something that you love.'' The voice almost held a hint of pity now. But then Mikhail stepped up next to Merlin, grabbing his shoulder, fingers digging painfully into Merlin's flesh. ''Kill him!'' he ordered coldly.

''What?''

It was Arthur who choked out the question, but it was Merlin's insides that froze over with shocked disbelief and fear.

''Kill him, Alexei. And prove to us that you are made out of the steel that is needed to rule over a territory.''

Merlin had stopped breathing, desperate and dizzy with panic now. Really, where was Daniel Craig when you needed him?

''That's absurd,'' Arthur spat. ''What has he got to do with anything?''

''I thought you did not care?''

''He lives with me, Mikhail,'' Arthur said, sounding awfully reasonable considering he was discussing Merlin's potential murder. ''Don't you think it will look suspicious when he ends up dead? That the police might come and ask questions? I can't say I'd care for the hassle and inconvenience at least.''

Mikhail scoffed. ''You know we will take care of that. Do not make excuses, Alexei! Kill him now, or I will have to kill you both. And, as you know, I do not make death easy, da?''

For a long moment Arthur just stood there. The hand holding his gun was trembling a little now. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, hanging his head.

''Then I guess you leave me no choice.''

Looking up again, he made a step forward, into the light. His blue eyes pierced Merlin, but they were not the cold, lifeless eyes of a killer. Arthur looked like he was being gutted when he directed his gun at Merlin

Merlin had never known what it meant to stare down the barrel of a gun. It took all your focus, made your perception narrow down to a single small, black hole.

''I'm sorry,'' Arthur whispered and fired.

People often said that, in the face of death, everything went still and they saw their life flash before their eyes. All Merlin could see was Arthur's face – because he was Arthur not Alexei, Merlin's obnoxious flat mate and friend and someone he had thought he could maybe love a little. Even with the fear and shock and the sheer utter disbelief keeping Merlin frozen in place, it was the cold blade of hurt and disappointment that skewered him, the realisation that he had been completely alone in his affection, and his heart broke long before Arthur's bullet could hit home.

Only it never did. Instead, the bullet whizzed past Merlin's ear and then there was a shocked, choking sound behind him, a gurgle and then nothing.

Merlin stared at Arthur, eyes wide and mouth agape, his whole body burning with the sudden explosion of adrenalin in his veins. Arthur had not shot him, but he had shot someone else. Merlin wanted to throw up as overwhelming relief swept over him. Relief that it had not been him – that he was still alive – when there was a dead body lying somewhere behind him.

''Oh my god... oh my god...'' Merlin whispered, dropping his eyes to Arthur's hand holding the gun. He only now realised the knuckles were bloodied. ''You killed him.''

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''Don't be an idiot, Merlin. He's only sedated.''

Merlin blinked. ''What?''

In a now strangely familiar move, Arthur shoved the gun into the back of his waistband and then moved forward, pulling out a knife. Merlin shrunk back wide-eyed, but Arthur just gave him an exasperated look before he took hold of Merlin's shoulder and gently pushed to turn him around.

''He's too important to kill,'' Arthur said with a hint of disgust in his voice.

Merlin frowned in confusion, wanting to ask what the hell Arthur was talking about, but was momentarily distracted by the tug at his bonds. His hands fell free, and Merlin groaned when sharp pain shot up his arms, all the way to his stiff shoulders. Rubbing the skin on his wrists, he glanced up at Arthur warily, mumbling a reluctant, ''Thanks.''

The prat raised his eyebrows and _smirked_. Then he shook his head and said, ''Really, Merlin. You're so much trouble.''

Merlin gaped a little and then shot to his feet, chair crashing to the ground behind him. '' _I'm_ trouble!?'' he cried, shoving Arthur in the chest so that he staggered a few steps backwards, and Merlin stalked after him, hissing, '' _You're_ a criminal! You shoot people and and... you're Russian!''

Arthur raised his eyebrows, looking amused. ''Now, that's a bit xenophobic, Merlin.''

Merlin balled his hands into fists at the sight of the grinning bastard before him who looked completely unapologetic. Anger bubbled up inside of him – anger at all the times Arthur had smiled at him, at the way he had seemed so genuine and made Merlin care, when he had obviously just been playing him. Before Merlin knew what he was doing, he had pulled his arm back and punched Arthur. He got him good, square on the jaw, but Merlin had only a split second to feel satisfaction before another wave of pain shot through his fingers and up his already aching arm.

''Fuck!'' he spat, bending forward and clutching his hand against his chest. ''I should have known your head's made out of concrete.''

Arthur blinked at him, rubbing his jaw, and Merlin would have sworn he was pouting a little.

''What the bloody hell was that for?'' Arthur asked petulantly, making Merlin raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

''How about for nearly shooting me?'' he asked, feeling another wave of outrage and indignation. ''And for getting me abducted? Oh, and for never doing the bloody dishes!'' He was crowding a surprised looking Arthur backwards now, glaring at him hotly and pointing an accusing finger at Arthur's broad chest. ''How about because you _lied_ to me, all this fucking time?''

Arthur frowned a little, but by the way he was pressing his lips together, it looked suspiciously as if he was trying not to laugh and Merlin would have punched him again, only he knew it would hurt him more than Arthur.

Finally, Arthur held his hands up placatingly. ''I'm sorry,'' he said, sounding almost sincere. _Ha!_ As if Merlin would believe one more thing out of the mouth of a mobster.

''But, really Merlin, how could I have told you? If I had, I'd have had to shoot you for real! As you might have realised, my job is a bit of a secret.''

Merlin scoffed. ''It's not as if I would have called the police! Well, probably not. The rent was rather cheap after all.'' Merlin shot Arthur a begrudging look. ''But a little warning would have been nice!''

Arthur choked a little and bit his lip. ''You wouldn't have given me up?'' he asked, cocking his head and looking much too happy for Merlin's liking. ''Even though I'm a dangerous criminal who shoots people?''

Merlin glared at him. ''I don't know,'' he said acidly. ''The option becomes more and more appealing the longer you keep talking.''

Arthur chuckled, his eyes crinkling with a weird fondness, and his voice was warm when he said, ''Actually, Merlin, I'm not.''

''You're not what? Not Russian?''

''Not a criminal. But, no, I'm not Russian either. Well, my mother was, but that's a different matter.''

Merlin looked at him doubtfully. ''Being with the mafia sounds a lot like being a criminal to me, _Alexei_.''

Arthur sighed and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. ''My name really is Arthur Pendragon. I didn't lie to you about that. But... well, I'm not an accountant.''

''Yeah, that's bloody obvious!''

''My mission was to infiltrate the operation of the Bratva here in London and try to bring them down from the inside.''

''Wh-what?'' Merlin gaped. ''You're an undercover cop?''

''MI5 actually.''

''Wh-... Wait.'' Merlin shook his head. ''Wait, wait, wait.'' He took a step back and looked at Arthur, all tousled blond hair and rumbled designer clothes, knuckles bruised and a hint of fierceness around his blue eyes. ''You're James Bond!?''

Merlin knew he was probably making a very unattractive impersonation of a fish, but Arthur just grinned. ''I'm not too fond of Vodka martini, myself,'' he said dryly. ''Never mind whether it's stirred or shaken.''

But Merlin didn't hear a word he said, because, suddenly, realisation hit home. ''Oh my god, am I the Bond girl in this story!?'' he squeaked.

Arthur threw his head back laughing then, and when he looked at Merlin again, he raised his eyebrows and waggled them a little. '' _Well_ ,'' he said, drawing out the word. ''You've said it this time, Merlin. Not me.''

Merlin stared at the gorgeous prat. There was still a strong urge to punch him, but another urge was becoming even more insistent. ''Fuck it,'' Merlin mumbled and grabbed Arthur by the lapels of his wrinkled suit jacket. ''If I'm the Bond girl, at least I get to reap the benefits.''

And with that he pulled a shocked looking Arthur forwards and kissed him.

Arthur smelled of sweat and something metallic that made Merlin think of gunpowder and danger, but he tasted like sunshine and lazy sex and Merlin deepened the kiss, hunting for more. A big part of him was still expecting to get pushed away any second, and so he was almost as shocked when his face was suddenly cradled by broad, rough palms, fingers combing into his hair. Arthur had always been a little domineering and he gave as good as he got now, chasing Merlin's tongue with his own and scraping his teeth over Merlin's bottom lip before he sucked on it hungrily. Merlin responded even more enthusiastically, trying to push away the jumbled mess of questions and doubts in his mind. This felt too bloody good. Merlin had wanted this since forever and so some part of his brain – or maybe it was his cock – kept shouting at him to _stop thinking and just go with it, you idiot!_

But Merlin was never good at listening, not even to himself, and so, after another hungry kiss, he drew back. ''Please tell me that you're at least bi,'' he said breathlessly and just a little bit worried.

Arthur shot him a disbelieving look. ''No, Merlin, I'm straight as an arrow and the reason I'm kissing you is because I _actually_ think you're a girl. That's also why I've been ogling you for the whole three months we've been living together.''

Merlin blinked rapidly before his face erupted into a surprised but elated grin. ''You've been ogling me?''

Arthur huffed, and pulled him in again. ''Less talking, Merlin.''

''No, no, no, wait,'' Merlin said, pushing against Arthur's chest. ''This I want to hear. Have you been pining for me, Arthur Pendragon?''

Arthur grimaced. ''I don't pine.''

Merlin laughed. ''God, why didn't you say something you stupid clotpole!''

'' _Maybe_ because you kept telling me I'm the worst flat mate in the world and an awful human being on top of that?''

 _Oh._ Merlin frowned. ''But that was only... I mean, I didn't. At the beginning.''

''At the beginning I was still hoping to get you to move back out right away.''

''What!?''

Arthur sighed, running one hand through his already ruffled hair. '' My life is rather dangerous, Merlin. I didn't want you to get wrapped up in it.'' He gave Merlin a small, soft smile. ''I didn't want you to get hurt.''

Merlin gnawed on his bottom lip. That made sense somehow. He frowned. Only it didn't, really. ''Then why did you agree to let me move in, in the first place?''

Arthur looked at him as if he had asked the stupidest thing in the world. ''Have you _tried_ to say no to Morgana and Gwen?''

''Oh...'' Merlin grinned. All right, he could imagine that even the men on her Majesty's Service would be intimidated by that wicked combination.

''Yeah.'' Arthur rolled his eyes. ''I just thought if I was as obnoxious and awful as possible, you'd give up and I could tell them I'd tried.''

Merlin gaped at him. ''You did that on purpose?''

Arthur looked at him sheepishly. ''Maybe a little? Only you didn't seem to be fazed by my... lesser qualities, and...'' he coughed a little. ''Well, I started to like having you around, I guess.''

Something loosened in Merlin then, something he had not even known was there, weighing on his heart, but when it crumbled away it was as if everything was lighter and brighter suddenly. Even their dark, gloomy surroundings faded away, because Arthur... Arthur _liked_ him!

Merlin couldn't help himself, he reached out and pulled the blond prat back in, grabbing at his hair and licking into his mouth, delighted when Arthur moaned desperately and dropped his hands to squeeze Merlin's arse.

Merlin felt the hard length of Arthur's cock pressing against him, and for a second wondered whether they would go at it right here in the cellar, when a groan came from behind them.

Merlin froze. His heart jumped to his throat, and he was sure it missed a few beats as well, but Arthur seemed hardly bothered. He wrapped his arm around Merlin's waist like a vice, as if to hold him in place, chasing Merlin's mouth with his own and hungrily sucking on his bottom lip. Only when Merlin started pushing at him a little frantically, did he finally pull back with a sigh. Without taking his eyes of Merlin, he reached for the gun in his waistband, aimed it over Merlin's shoulder and pulled the trigger. Merlin flinched; then he shot Arthur a glare.

''Was that really necessary?''

Arthur looked at him innocently. ''If you didn't fancy a bullet in your back, then yes.''

''Maybe you could just, I don't know, _disarm_ him then?'' Merlin asked exasperatedly. ''Isn't that what you're supposed to do in these situations?''

Arthur smirked. ''An excellent idea, Merlin, but then I'd have to let go of your arse.''

Merlin rolled his eyes. ''You just enjoy shooting him,'' he accused.

''That too.'' With an unrepentant grin, Arthur leaned in for another kiss, mumbling ''That fucker hurt you and you better believe I'll make him regret that.''

Merlin sighed. Really, how was he supposed to resist that?

Casting his doubts to the wind he wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, only to be interrupted _again_ when the door was pushed open. They should probably relocate. Before Merlin could blink, though, Arthur had his weapon aimed at the tall newcomer, standing in the door. The man held up his hands.

''Leon,'' Arthur breathed out, dropping his arm and putting the gun away again. ''What is it?''

''Sorry to interrupt, Arthur. I just wanted to let you know that we secured the rest of the building. Also, I believe, your father wants to speak to you.''

Merlin gave Arthur a bewildered look. ''Your _father_?''

Arthur shook his head with a grimace. ''Don't even ask.''

Sighing, he turned away and tapped at his ear. ''Uther?''

_''Arthur where are you and what the hell are you doing? Olaf has been murdered and-''_

''Yes, I know. I have Mikhail Pavlenko here. He confessed to the involvement of the Bratva-''

_''He what!? Where are you? Arthur this is not in accordance to our plans. You were supposed to keep your cover...''_

Arthur winced and Leon gave him a sympathetic look. ''I know, but –''

_''You are putting the whole mission at risk. That is unacceptable!''_

''I had to improvise!'' Arthur argued heatedly, pacing the length of the room now. ''Mikhail abducted--''

 _''This is_ exactly _why I told you to cut any contact with civilians. There has to be an end to it. I expect you in my office to disc--''_

Merlin, who had become more and more pissed off while listening, decided he had about enough then. Arthur had never talked much about his father apart from vague hints at a strained relationship, but Merlin could definitely see where he had been coming from now. Determinedly, he stepped into Arthur's way.

Arthur frowned at him, looking almost a little lost, and Merlin raised his eyebrows in silent challenge before he reached up and ripped Arthur's ear piece out. Under Arthur's wide-eyed look, Merlin started to make hissing noises at it.

''Sorry, sir... shrshrshr... I think we... shrshr... connection... shrshr... repeat... shrshr... can't under- shrshr.''

Then he dropped it with a triumphant smile and stepped on it, grinding it into the floor with his heal.

Arthur gaped. ''That was a very expensive piece of technology, Merlin.''

Merlin shrugged. ''Do I look like I care?''

The smile that spread slowly over Arthur's face was lovely, and when he stepped closer and lifted his hand, brushing the tips of his fingers over Merlin's bottom lip, Merlin's heart-rate picked up again.

''So much trouble,'' Arthur said, shaking his head. He sounded half amused and half awed by this observation. Then he grabbed Merlin's hand and threw a look over his shoulder, at the other man still standing in the door, watching them with a wry look.

''Leon?''

Leon sighed and reached inside his pocket. ''If you soil the upholstery, you clean it before returning it, Pendragon!'' he said with a stern look that couldn't mask the twinkle in his eye and threw something that Arthur caught left-handed. It was a car key.

''Want to get out of here?'' Arthur asked, shooting Merlin that beautifully obnoxious grin of his.

Merlin grinned back. ''I thought you'd never ask.''

They made their way out of the building, past a slightly disconcerting amount of bodies, but Arthur just kept pushing him, whispering, ''Don't look, keep walking.''

Once they were outside, Arthur pressed a button on the key, making the headlights of a sleek silver Mercedes flare up. The doors opened automatically, and Arthur swung himself behind the wheel, smiling at Merlin expectantly. ''What are you waiting for?'' he asked. ''Get in, will you?''

Merlin huffed a little, but then climbed in on the passenger side. It was a hot car, after all. Arthur put it in reverse with screeching tyres, and Merlin clung to the armrest as the car fishtailed, glaring at Arthur exasperatedly.

''Are you trying to impress me?'' he gasped.

Arthur shot him a cocky grin. ''Is it working?''

''Hardly.''

Laughing, Arthur stepped down on the accelerator and Merlin was pressed into the seat as the car shot forwards. Being too occupied with fearing for his life – and maybe just enjoying the thrill a little – Merlin didn't realise where they were going until Arthur swayed the car around, bringing it to a stop in front of what looked like an extremely fancy hotel.

He shot Arthur a wide-eyed look, but the prat just shrugged.

''Car doesn't have a back seat and our flat is compromised.''

Merlin narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what _compromised_ meant, not when it had taken him three hours to clean everything yesterday. ''They better have room service,'' he grumbled before he got out.

Arthur shot him a smug smile over the roof of the car. ''They have excellent room service.''

Half an hour later, when Merlin lay stretched out in the whirlpool with a glass of champagne and a bowl of strawberries ( _''That's very Pretty Woman, Merlin. Is there something you might want to tell me? Are you secretly a hooker?'' ''In your dreams, Pendragon!''_ ), he had to agree. He definitely could get used to this.

''I could get used to this,'' he told Arthur, who entered the bathroom just then, barefooted and with his shirt tails hanging open, revealing a black, shiny material that probably was some sort of bulletproof vest.

''You might have to,'' Arthur said, shrugging off the shirt and pulling at the Velcro fasteners of the vest.

Merlin was so mesmerized by the easy casualness with which Arthur was getting naked – and bloody hell, Daniel Craig really had _nothing_ on the real thing – that Arthur's words didn't register at first. But something niggled in the back of his mind while he watched Arthur lose the trousers, revealing tight-fitting black boxer shorts.

''What uh... huh?'' he asked distractedly.

Arthur shot him an amused look. Really, it seemed as if Merlin was just an eternal fount of entertainment for Arthur. ''You might have to get used to this,'' Arthur clarified. ''Living in hotels. Here today, gone tomorrow. At least for a little bit.''

''What?'' Merlin bit into a strawberry with a frown. ''Why?''

''The Bratva has a long arm and an even longer breath,'' Arthur explained. ''And you are on their radar now. I'm sorry.''

''Wait...'' Merlin shot up straight. ''What does that mean? Do I have to go into witness protection now?''

Arthur shrugged. ''Think of it more like... a long vacation. You can go back to uni when this is all over and done with.''

Merlin huffed and, crossing his arms in front of his chest, slouched down again into the hot water with a pout. ''You really are the worst flat mate in the world, you know?''

''Really?'' Arthur smirked, and stepped out of his pants. Merlin swallowed. That was one pretty cock. A thick, hard column rising out of a nest of dark golden curls, the dark pink head already pushing out of the foreskin. Of course Arthur would be perfect down there, too.

Merlin licked his lips. ''So far you've been. But I might give you a chance to convince me otherwise.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ''That's very generous of you, Merlin. I shall endeavour to change your mind then.'' With that said, he gracefully slid down into the tub and moved over to Merlin with a predatory glint in his eyes, making Merlin's own eager cock jump in anticipation. When he started to kiss Merlin breathless, clever fingers gliding over Merlin's wet skin and caressing in all the right places to make Merlin nearly delirious with lust, he couldn't help but admire Arthur's single-minded determination.

With an evil glint in his yes, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and pushed his cock against the hard muscles of his stomach, vowing that he would make the gorgeous, blond prat work for it.

Afterwards, when they lay stretched out on the huge, comfortable bed, touching lazily after what probably came down to the best shag Merlin had ever had – not that he'd tell Arthur that, his head was big enough already – Merlin couldn't help his uncertainty creeping back in, and he started to feel a little melancholic. He tried to push any thoughts of tomorrow and the future away, but he just wasn't made that way, and so he finally rolled over on his side, facing Arthur.

Arthur looked at him from under hooded eyes like a satisfied jungle cat. He was so beautiful that it made Merlin's heart clench in his chest.

''So...'' Merlin started hesitantly. ''I guess with me being the Bond girl, and you being the noble hero, that probably means you'll leave me high and dry in the morning, right?''

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. ''You do realise this isn't _really_ a spy movie, Merlin, don't you?''

Merlin rolled his eyes. ''Yes, Arthur. For one, you're not nearly as charming as James. But...'' He gnawed at his bottom lip uncertainly. ''I just thought that... with me going on this vacation... What will you do?''

''I'll go with you?'' Arthur asked, frowning as if that was obvious.

Merlin blinked in surprise, heart making a dizzying jump in his chest. ''You'll come with me? What about your job and your dad and...''

''I blew my cover,'' Arthur said with a rueful grimace, reaching out to stroke the tips of his fingers along Merlin's cheekbone in a breathtakingly tender caress. ''There's no way I can continue the mission as planned. Deep down, my father knows that, too. He's just being obnoxious about it.''

Merlin gave him a poignant look, before he muttered, ''You must get it from somewhere, I guess...''

Arthur flicked Merlin's ear, and Merlin grinned at him. He was feeling really warm inside all of a sudden.

''So you really messed up your assignment?'' he asked softly. ''Just to rescue me?''

''I didn't _mess up_ exactly, _Mer_ lin. I still took down a whole branch of one of the most dangerous crime organizations,'' Arthur drawled, but then he faltered a little. ''And of course I'd come for you. It was my fault in the first place. I shouldn't have got you involved in this. I probably shouldn't have fallen for you either.''

''But I proved to be irresistible,'' Merlin said, nodding sagely. ''You just couldn't get rid of me.''

''You stuck to me like a leech, yes.''

Merlin widened his eyes in mock outrage. ''I'll show you a leech!'' he threatened.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. ''Hmmm... I'd approve of that. Could you possibly start down there between my legs?''

Merlin narrowed his eyes and smirked at the blond prat deviously. ''That, Arthur Pendragon, you are going to regret,'' he promised, and then proceeded to make Arthur do just that, repeatedly, for a very long time, until he begged for mercy.

When Arthur took revenge a few hours later and Merlin came, screaming his lungs out, he decided that – maybe – Arthur wasn't the worst flat mate in the world after all.

 


End file.
